--yoonmin drabble

--single parent yoongi

"I had a really nice time tonight," Yoongi said, offering Jimin a small smile. He never quite knew how to end any of the dates he went on, whether bad or good. It always got awkward when it came to leaving. Usually he didn't mean it. Usually the dates were terrible, but this had been a truly pleasant surprise. He wished he had a way to convey that to Jimin, but showing enthusiasm wasn't his strong point.

Jimin hummed softly, an answering smile breaking out brightly across his face. "Yeah, me too. It's been lovely."

Yoongi glanced around the bar, startled by the realisation that it was almost empty. How long had they been there? It felt like only five minutes had passed.

Automatically, he tried to push down the urge to laugh foolishly at Jimin's words. It's been lovely. Yoongi liked that. And he wanted Jimin to know he liked that, so why was he trying not to smile? He should smile. What if Jimin thought he wasn't that into him?

He opened his mouth.

Jimin pushed away from the bar, sighing as he slid off the stool and stretched his legs. Yoongi watched, a little mesmerised by Jimin's hands running through his hair, tidying it. 

Jimin's eyes flickered in his direction, and Yoongi hastily ducked his head. His heart was beginning to jump unevenly. It was an end of date ritual, anticipation and anxiety for what was to come next. Or what might come next if Jimin hadn't been put off by Yoongi's... well... anything. How was he supposed to know what might make Jimin uninterested?

"Hey," Jimin said, fingers skating over Yoongi's shoulder. "You coming?" 

Yoongi nodded, easing himself off the stool. The street outside was cold, but Yoongi's body was fuzzy from the whiskey he'd been sipping. He sucked in a lungful of city air. Spicy street food, freshly cut grass from the park not far away, Jimin's perfume, a heavenly burst of fragrance. He turned to Jimin, again opening his mouth to speak, and found Jimin gazing at him.

Yoongi looked down at his shoes quickly. 

Jimin giggled, inching closer. "So... where do we go from here?" Soft fingers touched Yoongi's hand. "Feel like sharing a cab or do you think we'd sit in awkward silence the whole ride?"

Yoongi bit back another smile and cursed himself. Just let it happen. What did his body have against him showing people he liked them? He squeezed Jimin's fingers. "How far away is your place?" 

Jimin's eyebrows went up, his smile widening. "Not far... why?" Teasing.

Yoongi gestured at nothing in particular. "I could walk you home. If you're okay with me knowing where you live."

"I think I’m okay with that," Jimin murmured. He stepped back until their arms were stretched between them, the only thing linking them, the delicate hold they had on each other's fingers. He tugged gently, jerking his head. "It's this way." 

Yoongi fell into step beside Jimin, still holding his hand, but now at a complete loss for words. He kept his eyes on his feet, kept his head bowed.

Two minutes passed. It wasn't uncomfortable. not exactly. but he should be talk--

"You're quiet," Jimin observed, swinging their linked hands slightly. "Run out of things to say?" 

Yoongi snorted softly, shaking his head. Yeah, he'd totally run out of things to say.

"When I drink, you get about four hours of me being loud and fun. Then I... just get quiet," he said, trying to sound apologetic. "At least, that's what my friends say." 

"Sounds like your friends are smart people," Jimin said, bumping his shoulder against Yoongi's.

Yoongi breathed, told himself to smile properly. "I don't know if you'd be saying that if you met them." 

"Well, maybe I'll have to meet them sometime so I can judge that for myself." 

Yoongi got hot again, nodded. "Yeah. It's the only way to tell."

Five minutes passed. Yoongi counted each second, trying not to steal peeks at Jimin. It wasn't like he hadn't been looking at him all night, but Jimin looked so... beautiful. His hair wasn't tidy, but it was good that it wasn't. Each of his smiles revealed a slightly crooked front tooth. The collar of his shirt was rumpled. Yoongi had caught a glimpse of odd socks when Jimin adjusted his trouser leg in the bar. Everything about Jimin felt carefree and weightless. The way he looked at Yoongi made him feel... Well, it made him feel attractive. Even if Jimin didn't mean it to, just having Jimin smile at him, pay attention, actually seem interested when he talked about what he liked... It was lovely. Yoongi missed having that feeling. God, he missed having anyone older than six who looked at him like he was the world when he talked. Dae-Hyun hung off his every word, but Yoongi missed this, the way someone who was attracted to you looked at you.

Suddenly, he became aware that Jimin's pace had slowed. They halted on a street of apartment buildings, Jimin turning to face him, taking his other hand. "Well," he said, giving Yoongi another one of those smiles, those looks, "this is me."

Yoongi looked at the dark building. It didn't look like the type of place someone like Jimin should live. But then again, Yoongi was pretty sure he didn't look like someone who owned a house with weird stick figures and sunshines drawn everywhere Dae-Hyun could reach.

He looked back at Jimin. This was the moment. 

Jimin's mouth was warm against his, hesitant, like he was getting used to the feeling of Yoongi's kiss. His hands slipped into Yoongi's hair, and he smiled as the kiss deepened. Yoongi's breath grew heavy, hands finding Jimin's waist to tug him closer. Their bodies pressed together. How long had they been kissing? He didn't care. He felt breathless and he liked it. He'd missed it.

He shuddered just a little as they broke apart, Jimin's fingers tracing down his scalp. Jimin looked at him, lips shining, eyelids lowered, chest rising and falling in time with Yoongi's own. "Come inside?"

The question came out surprisingly timid. And any other night Yoongi might have said yes. It wasn't exactly like he got to go out with anyone often. Only on nights Hoseok was free. Dae-Hyun wouldn't let anyone else stay with him but Hoseok.

Carefully, he put his arms up between them, hands on Jimin's chest. Get it over with. He should have said it the moment Jimin started talking to him, but he'd just been so sick of everyone passing or only wanting a one night stand. He'd just wanted one night to feel young again.

He lowered his head, but Jimin's fingers found his chin and tilted it back up again. "What is it?" Jimin asked softly, concern filling his eyes. "We don't have to. I'm okay with that."

Yoongi shook his head. "It's not... I'd love to, but... I'm not looking for a one night stand." 

Jimin nodded, his full attention on Yoongi. "Okay. That's cool. I like you."

Yoongi shook his head again. Just say it. "I have a kid. I'm a dad."

Jimin blinked, lips parting in a silent 'oh'. 

“I should have told you straight away," Yoongi said, rushing and stumbling through his words. "I normally do, but so many people just aren't interested because of that. And I get why, but it's so..." He swallowed thickly. He was not going to cry. That would just be pathetic. Crying was reserved for when he was home alone after the dates were over. "I'm sorry," he said. "Anyone I go out with has to be ready to be there for Dae-Hyun too. And I like you. I like you a lot. And I'd like to try dating you properly, but I understand you're a lot younger than me and a six year old kid is a lot. And I should have told you before we even met up. There's no excuse, I was just being selfish."

He tried to read Jimin's expression, but couldn't get anything from it. Jimin's fingers were playing with the hair at the nape of Yoongi's neck. But he wasn't running away or slapping Yoongi, so that had to be a good sign.

"He's six?" Jimin asked, voice fluttering. 

Yoongi nodded. "His mum, she--" 

"You don't have to explain," Jimin breathed, tucking a lock of hair behind Yoongi's ear. "I don't need to know. It's okay." His thumb was drawing tiny circles on Yoongi's cheek.

Yoongi's mouth was bone dry. "You don't have to make a decision right now," he said, testing the words out. "You can just tell me to fuck off, that's an option too." 

Jimin hummed, eyes thoughtful. the corner of his mouth twitched. He chuckled. Giggled. Laughed outright. "This explains a lot actually. You act like such a dad."

"What? How?" Yoongi asked, the tension in his shoulders lessening. 

Jimin's cheeks were rosy as he tilted his head back to look at the sky, exposing his throat. Yoongi tried not to think about kissing it.

"Just the way you talk, it's so clear and articulate. At first I thought you might be a therapist, they're very patient and clear, you know? Like you have to be with kids. And you make dad jokes, no offence."

"I do?" 

"Yeah, you absolutely do."

They laughed quietly. 

Yoongi was the first to stop, embarrassed. "I really am sorry. I'm an asshole for not telling you." 

"It wasn't the best decision you've made," Jimin agreed, not unkindly. 

"I know you're younger than me--"

"I'm twenty-five, you're twenty-seven. That's only two years. I'd love to meet him." 

"R-really?" Yoongi stammered.  

Jimin pulled a face. "Well, when we've seen if we're even compatible, obviously. I wouldn't want to come into his life and disappear because we break up after a few months. That's not fair to him because kids love me and when they meet me they always want me to adopt them. So you're going to have to be aware that when I do meet him, you're not going to be his favourite anymore."

Yoongi beamed. He couldn't help it. "Really? You like kids?" 

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. "I have five little cousins. I babysit whenever the parents need a date night. Who's babysitting for you?"

"Hoseok-ah. My friend."

"One of the not-smart ones?" Jimin's head tilted teasingly. 

"Yeah," Yoongi laughed. "The not-smartest of them all. Dae-Hyun won't let anyone else babysit him, so I think if you're going to steal anyone's spot as the favourite, it'll be Hoseok-ah's."

Jimin pulled his face closer, pressed a soft kiss to Yoongi's lips. "I'm good with that if you are," he murmured into the kiss. 

Yoongi responded with a breathy noise in the back of his throat. God, he was so good with that. With this.

"Do you still want to come inside?" Jimin asked. He kissed the tip of Yoongi's nose, grinning breathlessly. 

Yoongi hesitated. The last time he'd started a relationship with sex he'd ended up with a child. Although, he supposed at least neither he or Jimin could get pregnant, so that was something, but... he looked at the building towering over them, back at Jimin, at their hands, clasping between their chests. When had that happened?

Jimin bit his lip, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "I get it if we need to take this slow. It's probably smart."

Yoongi swallowed. "Yeah, um, the thing is... I'm not actually that smart, so..."

--yoonkook drabble

Jungkook is set to get married, he’s blissfully in love… until half an hour before the ceremony when he suddenly realises holy fucking shit I can’t do this. So he goes to his best friend Yoongi, not just his friend, but his best man.

“I can’t do this, hyung, I can’t do this. I need you to get me out of here. please just take me somewhere else.”

But Yoongi doesn't. He sits Jungkook down and makes him breathe. He holds Jungkook's hands. He asks him if he’s really sure about running away. “It’s okay to be nervous, Kookie, but don’t let this ruin your love. I need you to think about it. Are you really prepared to lose him? Because that’s most likely what will happen if you leave now.”

But Jungkook is sure. He’s completely sure. He needs to go right now and Yoongi has to come with him. They need to run away together. Now.

And Yoongi says, “okay.” Simple. No arguments. No trying to persuade Jungkook otherwise. Just “okay.” And they leave, and they drive, drive, drive. And every time Yoongi tries to stop, Jungkook tells him to keep going, and Yoongi does. They drive all night, Jungkook sat stiffly in the passenger seat, Yoongi trying to keep his eyes open as the hour gets later and later.

It’s just as the first rays of sun are peaking over the horizon and Yoongi is damn well sure they’re lost in the middle of nowhere, that Jungkook tells him to pull over. The road they’ve taken is winding, leading all the way to grassy cliffs that look out on the sea.  Everything smells of salt and oncoming rain and heather. 

It’s a beautiful spot really, especially with the sun just beginning to light up the world. The wind is freezing, but Yoongi has coats for them. And after wrapping Jungkook up snugly in one, Jungkook staring aimlessly over Yoongi’s shoulder, he trudges through the heather, letting Jungkook lead him towards the edge of the cliff. 

They stand quietly beside each other, watching the sunlight sparkle off the waves, the wind whipping their hair back from their faces. Jungkook is hugging himself, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He’s been gnawing at it on and off all during their journey. 

Yoongi hasn’t tried to talk to Jungkook about Jungkook's choice to run away. He figured he’d give him time to think about it, let the decision sink in for both of them. But all night seems like plenty of time. Yoongi’s hungry and tired and there isn’t a toilet nearby. Not even a town or house for miles. It feels like they might as well be the only ones in existence, he thinks. Maybe that’s why Jungkook wanted to stop here, to pretend he won’t have to go back and deal with the mess he’s caused. 

“Kookie…” he begins, turning towards him, reaching out a hand tentatively to touch Jungkook’s sleeve.

“Shut up! Don’t touch me,'' Jungkook snaps, so harshly that Yoongi flinches, hand dropping to his side. 

Jungkook's eyes are full of tears and he’s fumbling in his pocket with cold fingers, teeth gritted with concentration. 

“What’s your problem?” Yoongi retorts, not meaning to sound so angry. “It’s not my fault you ran awa—”

“My fucking problem is this.” Jungkook shoves something at him, a crumpled piece of stationary, crushing it against Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi can feel his fingers shaking where they press into Yoongi’s shirt, waiting for Yoongi to take the paper.  

He takes it, cupping Jungkook’s hand to keep the paper from blowing away. 

“How could you?” Jungkook says, voice cracking. 

Yoongi knows what the piece of paper is without having to unfold it, but he unfolds it anyway and god he’d known the moment he saw it, but ice cold nausea clenches his stomach at seeing his own spidery, sloppy handwriting.

“Kookie, where did you get this?” 

“Where did I get it?” Jungkook shouts, flinging his arms in the air. “Where the fuck do you think I got it? How could you? On my wedding day.” 

Yoongi shakes his head frantically, tears pooling in his eyes. “No. I didn’t… Jesus Christ, I didn’t…” 

He looks down at the messy note, written on front and back because he’d crossed out and restarted so many lines. Don’t get married. Please. 

Jungkook’s voice turns scathing as he continues to shout. Yoongi’s heart beats like a drum in his ears. If someone had punched him in the stomach he’d feel less winded. His teeth knock together with the cold and he presses his hand over his mouth. He can’t run. He can’t even move. He’s shaking with each ragged breath, vision blurring. He doesn’t need to see the note, though, he has its words memorised. 

Jungkookie, you have to know I love you. And I know I’m too late and I’m stupid for never saying so, but I was always so afraid of losing you. And now I am losing you anyway. I love, I love, I love you. For the love of god, don’t get married to him. Don’t move away. Don’t leave me. I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Jungkook's yells are mindless noise, lost in the wind, in the blood pumping in Yoongi’s veins, in the soundless sound of his own thoughts. “I threw it away months ago,” he says quietly, and is hyper conscious of Jungkook shutting up, of the only sounds being the crashing of the waves, the rush of the wind as it rustles in the grass. 

He glances at him, sees his nose and cheeks are tinted pink with cold, eyes wet. Anger burns in them. It doesn’t suit Jungkook to look so hateful. 

Yoongi looks back down at the note, closes his eyes for a moment, feeling his own tears begin to fall. He can’t look at Jungkook as he speaks, throat so tight it hurts to get anything out. “I swear, I threw it away months ago, the day I wrote it. I-I’m not an asshole, I wasn’t about to ruin your wedding.” 

“No,” Jungkook barks, taking a step closer to jab him in the chest. “You’re an asshole.”

Yoongi’s chin wobbles. He can feel himself breaking at the seams, groping desperately in the corners of his mind for anything to say to fix this. Make it go away. “Please don’t hate me,” he whispers. It wouldn’t come out as anything else. “I can’t lose you. I threw it away. I didn’t do this. I don’t know who gave this to you, but I didn’t want them to.”

Jungkook laughs bitterly, looking out to sea. “You don’t get it, do you?” he says, softer. “Give me that.” Yoongi lets him rip the note from his grasp, hold it up, and begin to read from it. “I’ve loved you since we were in university together. Since the day before our exams when you calmed me down. I remember your hand in my hair. You knew it would work because you always saw me playing with my hair when I was nervous. You noticed I did that to soothe myself when I didn’t even realise I was doing it.”

Yoongi chokes back a sob, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “Jungkookie—“ 

Jungkook stops him with a look. “Do you know how long ago that was? It’s been almost ten years, Hyung. Ten years. We’ve wasted ten years of our lives. We’re such assholes.”

“What?” Yoongi’s breath catches. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“That I love you too, you fucking idiot,” Jungkook yells. The flats of his palms collide with Yoongi’s chest, but Yoongi doesn't move. He lets Jungkook take out his frustration, the hits feeble, more a series of pats than anything else. “You couldn’t have told me then? Or when we lived together? Or when I came out? Or any of the times I wasn't dating anyone? YOU HAD TO TELL ME ON MY WEDDING DAY? MY FUCKING WEDDING DAY. AFTER I SPENT HUNDREDS ON A WEDDING I’M NOT EVEN ATTENDING! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I TRIED TO ASK YOU OUT AND YOU JUST DIDN’T FUCKING GET IT? FOR FUCKS SA—”

“Jungkook-ah!” Yoongi cries, seizing him by the shoulders. He’s smiling so hard his mouth hurts. Every pore, every cell in his body is smiling, even though that’s not possible and doesn’t make any sense. He’s laughing, giggling flusteredly and he can’t control it because this must be a fucking fever dream. 

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, tear-tracks glittering on his frozen cheeks. He isn’t looking at Yoongi, he’s staring at their feet, hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. “Why didn’t you get it?” he says at a normal volume, voice broken and hoarse. “Th-that time in uni when I asked if you wanted to get ramen at my place… I ended up feeling like an idiot because you really just thought I’d invited you for dinner. Everyone knew what that meant but you. You’re such an asshole.” He presses his lips together hard, muffling a whimper. Fresh tears streak down his face, clinging to his chin. He shudders with his next breath. “And I asked you to that office Christmas party as my date, but you thought I meant platonically because I didn’t have anyone else to go with. Who thinks stuff like that? You’re so—”

He stops mid sentence as Yoongi brushes his fingers over his cheek, leaning into the touch. “S-say it again,” Yoongi breathes, scared to ask, but terrified to stay silent. “Please.”

“Who thinks stuff like that?” Jungkook says, frowning. 

Yoongi snorts. “Not that. Say…” he can’t get himself to say it, not when Jungkook’s looking at him like that, when Yoongi’s hand is cupping his cheek, when the sun is warming their faces on a clifftop like this is some confession scene from a period drama. He slips his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jungkook’s neck, stepping forward until their chests are touching. Jungkook hugs him fiercely, burying his face in Yoongi’s shoulder, and Yoongi returns the embrace.

“Say it again,” he croaks, trembling.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers, fingers digging painfully into Yoongi’s back. “I’ve loved you since the weekend in uni when you looked after me because I had that stomach bug.”

Yoongi sobs loudly. “Fuck off, you absolutely have not. Say it again.”

Jungkook sniffles, nuzzling the crook of Yoongi’s neck softly, but he doesn’t argue the matter. “Did you really not mean for me to get the note?” he asks, timid. 

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, but I--Hoseok-ah must have put it there. He’s been trying to get me to confess for years. Say it again.”

“Well, you can tell him he has to pay for the wedding he ruined.” 

“Yeah. I will. Say it again.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, how many did I miss? Three? I love you. I love you. I love you.”

hi, i’m jem (: i know nothing about tumblr, but here i am.

i write gay bts fanfics (for all ships), make moodboards, take commissions + tips, and cry about how beautiful yoongi’s hair is.

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--namkook drabble 

"Are you done yet?" Namjoon yawned. 

"Nope." Jungkook's eyes stayed glued to his painting. The wind ruffled his hair.

"I'm bored." 

"Yep.”

"Can't you just take a picture of me and then use that as a reference?" 

"Nope. Sit up properly. You can't change positions."

Namjoon sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "But I can smell rain in the air."

"Uh huh..."

"Why did you have to paint me? Don't they give you live models for class?" 

Jungkook frowned, peeking around the edge of his easel. "Yeah, it comes in a cage and everything–has a little wheel like a hamster. But I wasn't too keen on a human in a cage in my room, so..." He grinned and went back to painting before Namjoon could call him an idiot. "Nah. There weren't enough volunteers. Plus..." He shrugged. "I prefer painting you anyway. You're my muse."

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "Well, as your muse, I expect better treatment from now on."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Jungkook asked. 

Namjoon held up a finger. "First of all, if you're going to make me sit on the ground to be painted, give me something waterproof to sit on. My ass is wet and it's your fault."

Jungkook giggled.

Up went another finger. "Second of all, I charge by the hour. And I'm not cheap."

Jungkook giggled harder.

"Third of all--thirdly?--if i'm going to have to sit still for hours then I'll need refreshments. Maybe a mini fridge? And definitely a back massage once we're done."

Jungkook put down his paintbrush, eyes twinkling with mischief as he moved around the easel. He knelt in the damp grass, taking Namjoon's face in both hands. 

The kiss was just a peck at first, but with a quiet sigh, it deepened. Namjoon's arms wrapped around Jungkook's waist. Jungkook slid his fingers into Namjoon's hair, then down so his arms were draped lazily over Namjoon's shoulders. They broke apart slowly, Namjoon chasing Jungkook's lips, then ducking his head before their eyes could meet, cheeks bright pink.

Jungkook felt the burn in his own face, but only kissed Namjoon's forehead gently, smoothing his hair back. "Just another twenty minutes," he murmured. "Then we can go back to our room and order dinner and I'll give you a massage. Sound good?"